


Be Careful What You Wish For

by Katzedecimal



Category: Flash Rogues - Fandom, The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Child Abandonment, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 17:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years ago, Roscoe's wish came true, and changed the course of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Careful What You Wish For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dillonmania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dillonmania/gifts).



> This has its roots in an unpublished storyline developed by me and Seftimiu, way way back in the day. In it, Meloni Thawne travelled back in time with the intent of intercepting Digger Harkness before he could murder Tim Drake's father. Unfortunately, the time bubble overshot the mark by some fifty years, finding him as a child instead. Stuck in the past with no way home, she adopted him as her son, and the ripples spread out from there, affecting the lives of other would-have-been Rogues.

It was an unexpected sight. He had just come from practice with the best possible news, and he and his brother had stopped at the store to look at the new colour televisions in the window. That's when he noticed the man, also staring at the televisions. Roscoe stared at the man, who didn't seem to have noticed him yet, and was catapulted back to the last time he had seen that face, almost ten years ago. 

School had been a trying time for Roscoe and once again, he'd been held in detention for correcting the teachers' misinformation, a habit they preferred to think of as "talking back." He'd been taunted all day, though his friends had stood up for him. He was grateful for that. 

He didn't have many friends. Digger Thawne was his first friend. When some bigger kids had stolen all of Roscoe's tops, Digger had stood up for him and told the class how wrong it was to steal. He'd quoted the 'Decoration of Independance' and made a ruckus and his mom had been called and she made an even bigger ruckus. Then Digger bought him a new top with his very own allowance. 

He'd finally gotten home, tired and wanting nothing more than to have some supper and play with his tops for a while. He'd trudged up the stairs, dragging his book bag behind him. The apartment was quiet, with no television or radio noises, but that wasn't unusual - Mom was probably having another of her headaches. He put his key in the lock and the door swung open. 

The apartment was empty. 

Completely empty. All of the furniture was gone. The refrigerator was empty. His bedroom was empty. Everything was gone. Even his parents.

So he went to Mrs. Thawne's house because he didn't know what else to do. And there, on Mrs. Thawne's front porch, was all of his stuff. He stared at it. The front door was open and he heard Mrs. Thawne's voice as she talked on the telephone in the kitchen. Her voice was shaking and she was crying and angry. He stared numbly at his belongings, unable to reach out and take one of the tops piled carelessly into a crate. He sank to his knees on the step. 

"C'mon, Roscoe," he heard Digger say gently, "Mummy's made veg'table lasagna an' it's so good, you won't believe. C'mon and eat and I'll go get Len and Huey and we'll help carry your stuff inside. You can have my bed tonight." So he got up and followed him inside and he ate, though he had no appetite left. And he sat on Digger's bed and stared at nothing while Digger and Len and Huey moved his things. He knew he should get up and help, they were his things, but he just couldn't move.

"He really got 'bandoned?" he heard Huey whisper as they carried things. 

"Yeah. I heard Mummy talking to your Ma about it so I sneaked a look at the letter they left," Digger replied. 

He saw Len's shadow nod its head, "Our mom 'bandoned us when Lisa was a baby. He's gonna feel bad for a while."

He pulled his knees up to his chest. After a while, he began to rock. But he didn't cry. 

He didn't sleep that night.

* * * *

Mr. Grant had brought him a bed and he and Mr. Garrick and Mr. Scott had helped Mrs. Thawne make a bedroom for him. The police had searched but there was no trace of his parents, though they didn't suspect foul play. It seemed as though the Dillons had simply packed up and left, leaving their son behind. Mrs. Hunkel did the social working and got him placed with Mrs. Thawne for foster care but it would be a while before she could apply to adopt him. 

He wasn't sure why she would want to. Why would anybody want to? Why would anybody want a boy who was so messed up, who couldn't do anything right, who was so badly broken his own parents didn't want him anymore...

Digger had woken to find Roscoe rocking, biting himself, and smashing his head repeatedly against the wall. He'd stared, uncertain what to do. Finally, he'd asked why. 

"Because I'm bad and messed up," Roscoe had sobbed. 

Digger had digested that in silence. "I don't think you're messed up," he said finally, "You're a little different but you're smart and you're real nice once a chap gets to know you. And anyways, different isn't bad. That Wolfe chap, **he's** bad. I heard the grown-ups whispering last week he set a cat on fire! You never hurt anybody, 'less they try to hurt you first. You just wanna play with your tops. Anyways, Mummy says you're just a little artistic and that's aces!"

"Then why did they leave me behind? They didn't like me because I'm bad."

Digger twisted nervously, "Why d'you think you're bad?"

Roscoe bit himself again, sobbing harder. Digger threaded his fingers over the wound, peering anxiously at his friend. "I wished I had your mom instead of mine," Roscoe whimpered finally. 

Digger didn't seem shocked. Instead he pressed his lips together and nodded thoughtfully. Then he leaned forward and whispered, "You wanna know a secret? You gotta promise to keep it a secret, okay? It's real important. But I'm gonna tell you because you'll understand."

Roscoe nodded, wide eyed. 

"Mummy isn't me real mum," Digger whispered, "Me real name's George Harkness but I ran away."

"Why?" Roscoe whispered, awed. 

Digger pulled down his shirt, revealing the thick cord of scar tissue bisected by a neat seam that Roscoe had always wondered about, "See that? Me real Da gimme that. He picked me up and threw me down the front steps and I got rocks stuck in me skin and a big rock got stuck in me shoulder and buried under some meat."

"Why?" Roscoe said again.

Digger shrugged, "I broke a string on his guitar and he said I ruined it."

"They didn't take you to a doctor?"

"No-pe," Digger said, popping the P, "It stayed and stayed and it got red and hurt lots, but I didn't see any doctor until Mummy took me - my Mummy now, not my real mum."

"Why didn't your real mom take you?"

Digger looked away and didn't answer for a few moments. He pulled up his pajama legs to reveal faint, faint marks on his shins that looked like socks. Finally he looked back and said, "After they gimme these, I wanted to run away. I din't want to stay there anymore. So I dug a hole to South America. Didn't get there, though. That's when Mummy found me, Meloni. I wished she was a crazy lady who could kidnap me so I could run away a little faster but she said it wasn't Thursday."

"Huh?"

"Only crazy on Thursdays," Digger grinned, "But she kidnapped me anyways."

"She did?!?"

"Uh huh," Digger nodded, "That's why it's gotta stay a secret! I wanna stay kidnapped! I don't want to go back, they think I got eaten by dingoes! My new Mummy's so much better than my real one and I love her so much."

"I know," Roscoe said slowly, looking away, "That's why I......."

Digger nodded, "That's why I told you my secret. Now you're here and you can be my little brother! And I'm gonna be a way better brother than Tom was, I'm gonna be like Huey! He's a great brother, he'll teach me how to do it right. An' we'll play tops and boomerangs and then you'll want to stay 'bandoned, too. You're gonna be happy too, okay?"

And Roscoe had wiped his eyes and nodded, "Okay, Digger. ...Who's Tom?"

 

* * * *

He remembered the first time he felt happy. He and Digger had been playing, he with his tops and Digger with his boomerangs. Huey and Len and Sisty and Lisa had come by and they all went to play ball in the park. Roscoe had gone with them, taking his tops. He'd played with his tops while the others played ball. 

They'd complained about that once. Only once, because Mrs. Thawne had explained it to them. She'd said that maybe ball wasn't the best game for him, but that he liked being with them - he was playing and he was with them, and wasn't that what mattered? He was happy playing with his tops and enjoying them being near, they were happy playing their ball game and knowing he was there - wasn't that what mattered most? And they'd agreed and never thought anything of it again. 

So he played with his tops while the others played ball, and he looked up and smiled across at them. Then he looked up at the sky and saw the clouds and he turned around in a circle, watching the sky, turning and turning and kept turning, watching the sky spin around him until he collapsed to the grass and stared up at the whirling sky, giggling. 

"Are y'alright, Rozzie?"

"Yeah," he'd answered, smiling up as Digger leaned over him, "You were right, Digger. I'm happy. I didn't know I could be happy, before."

And Digger had laughed and Huey helped him up and they all went to play on the swings. And they twisted the chains around and around and lay back and laughed as the chains unwound and spun them around. 

That winter, they'd gone to the Hunkels' house to have holiday dinner with Ma and Huey and Sisty and Len and Lisa. And they'd seen the skaters on TV, spinning so fast. 

* * * * 

"..oscoe Thawne, local skating star nicknamed 'The Top' for his spectacular spins..." 

He was drawn back to the present by the sound of his name and his brother clutching his shoulder. "Rozzie, look!! You're on the news!!" Digger said excitedly.

"Hmph," the man sniffed disdainfully, "Another one. I feel sorry for that young man's parents, wasting all their time and money only for him to turn into one of _those._ **I** wouldn't have allowed it to happen."

Roscoe thought about his father's strict ways, strict thinking and stricter punishments. He thought about how worthless he used to feel, how wrong and broken. He thought about Mr. Grant coaching him, making him strong so he could lift Lisa, his skating partner, like a feather, and teaching him how to put his spin into a roundhouse elbow in a fight. He thought of how he used to harm himself, trying to make himself be better, and he thought about Mr. Garrick and Mr. Scott praising his skating skill and teaching him how a good man behaves. _No, you wouldn't have, would you._

He realised he'd spoken aloud and looked up to see the man staring at him. Digger glanced at him, took in the similar faces and made the connection immediately, because Digger was clever like that. He flashed a wicked grin and put his arm around Roscoe's shoulders. "C'mon, Roscoe, let's go. That bloke's just jealous 'cause it's not **his** son who's going to the Olympics!"


End file.
